I have been married for 30 days. I'm a marriage newbie. But, thanks to my brilliant, kind, reasonable wife — hi honey! — I've already acquired more knowledge about myself and the mechanics of relationships than I ever did as a serial dater in my early 20s. (Not to diminish the skills I developed to avoid getting catfished by middle-aged men on Craigslist). Of course, I'm sure she taught me some of these lessons long before our wedding day, but here's what I've processed in our four weeks of wedded bliss.

1. I thought I was a good listener. I am not a good listener. Yet.
When accused of not paying attention, I have been known to attempt to demonstrate my impeccable listening skills by repeating whatever has just been said, verbatim. However, after recently responding to a specific follow-up question ("So then what are your plans tomorrow?") with a particularly inappropriate answer ("Thursday"), my wife finally decided to hold an intervention. She brought to my attention that robotically reciting a string of words does not, in fact, indicate those words have actually been processed by a brain preoccupied with Grand Theft Auto 5 and pretzels. I have since incorporated eye contact into my "listening" routine.

2. Not all problems need fixing.
Trying to analyze my wife's troubles and offer her solutions based on logic and reason is not, she tells me, always the most helpful course of action. Apparently this isn't necessarily what she's looking for when she comes home upset over a particularly frustrating day of wiping kid-vomit from her shoes (no, she's not a carnival worker — she's a child behavior therapist). Sometimes she doesn't want to hear a lengthy treatise on "the importance of wet-naps" — she just wants to vent for a few minutes while I hug her and confirm to her that something does, indeed, suck.

3. But if one does, get fro-yo.
For when a hug won't do it, my wife has introduced me to a secret weapon that will make anything better, no matter how bad the mess: a northeast chain called Sixteen Handles that offers the best flavors of frozen yogurt I've ever tried in my life. (No, I don't work for them, BUT I AM TOTALLY WILLING TO.) Whatever your brand of choice may be — Red Mango, TCBY, Yogen Früz, or YogurtExplosionLactoseSplürge — there's nothing a little salted caramel fro-yo can't fix.

4. You can't win a marriage.
We are both flawed, emotional human beings. Arguments should be less about who's "right" and "wrong," and more about how our actions make the other person feel. For every pet peeve of mine that my wife has been known to trigger, I've surely frustrated her as many times with my own behaviors. (Honey, if you're reading this: I'm sorry for leaving those beard trimmings in the sink — I'll clean them up when I get home.) Such a framing is much more constructive, and healthier for the relationship. Except for when she eats all my kale chips — that's just wrong.

5. She does not have an "on/off" switch like I do.
"What's the matter?" I once asked my wife after attempting to turn her on by brusquely tapping various parts of her body like the cockpit controls of an airplane. "I need to be wooed," she explained. This is going to sound strange, but hear me out: When you're married to your best friend, it's easy to forget that she is a woman and her body works differently than yours. I don't mean I literally forget she's a woman, or that I see her asexually in any way. My wife is hot. But when it seems like she's the only person who gets why I made that dumb joke and thinks it's just as funny as I do, I forget that we are not made of the same material. And her material needs foreplay.

6. Talk about EVERYTHING. ALWAYS.
You know what's a gross word? Fester. Don't let anything in your relationship fester. Tiny things you deemed unworthy of a conversation at one time will burst out at the least opportune time (e.g. while boarding a 14-hour flight to South Africa). If my wife had a marriage mantra, it'd probably be, "Tell me what you're feeling," whereas mine would be, "Nothing a little make-up-sex can't fix!" (Hers is more productive.)

7. When you're feeling selfish, zoom out.
Since moving in with my wife, I have been dethroned as King Ethan: Lord of the Apartment, who once possessed unlimited rights to watch back-to-back episodes of That Metal Show. Compromises — like watching Game of Thrones on the couch together — are just as necessary in the home as they are in the outside world. My wife even has phrase of advice for when she thinks I'm focusing too much on narcissistic minutiae: "Zoom out." And sometimes she'll accompany said phrase with head massages and omelettes, thus inadvertently exemplifying how to selflessly care for another person. Maybe that skill will come in handy when we bring kids into the world someday … (Someday.)

8. Fandom is not love.
I think I technically learned this in sixth grade, but my wife showed me that it's not just a prepubescent theory. You do not have to be the number one fan of your husband's (or wife's) hobbies and interests to be a loving and supportive partner. My wife can be very honest with me about the improvisational hardcore band I play with from time to time. I know she's not into it. That's fine. Marriage is going to last the rest of our lives, during which, I'm positive, I will pick up other weird hobbies that will take up my Thursday nights. Can you imagine the pressure I'd put on her if she had to be at every show for me to feel loved? I'd rather she focus on being my loving wife and my supportive lover. Number one fan is not a title she needs to worry about.